


A Sweeter Deal

by guybriefly



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Crack Relationships, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guybriefly/pseuds/guybriefly
Summary: One cold Candlenights, Garfield the Deals Warlock pays a quick visit to the Artificer's office to hand in a found item, only to find thatsomebody'spushed the poor man to the end of his tether. Garfield quickly realises a deal could be made out of this, but not the kind he expected...





	A Sweeter Deal

**Author's Note:**

> You asked, I delivered, and by 'you asked' I mean you didn't and by 'I delivered' I mean 'you're welcome'.
> 
> Based on a joke I was about to make on twitter that was like 'haha, Garfield the Deals Warlock/Leon the Artificer Hurt/Comfort Fluff fanfiction' but then I thought nah, that'd be too weird, and then I wrote it
> 
> Set around Lunar Interlude III, I guess, but did you really expect this fic to be chronologically plausible

Thick Candlenights snow gathers on the roof of the Fantasy Costco. _One of the downsides to being the only non-domed building on the base, I guess,_ muses Garfield, watching snowflakes settle and small, cold, dedicated groups attempt to clear pathways through the blanket of snow already on the ground. He breathes warm air into his cupped hands – _paws?_ – and hugs his cloak tighter around himself. It _is_ cold. There must be something around here to warm someone up…

After a while of pacing around the aisles, he finds, hanging on a rack in a distant corner of the store, a rich purple robe. It’s a little small, but the fabric is thick and soft, the peach-coloured fur lining a little itchy from age but perfectly insulated. Garfield hums to himself in pleasure as he flourishes his new threads, admiring the stitching and the warmth, before stuffing his hands in the pockets and recoiling slightly, feeling something small and round between his fingers.

A token. An old, slightly battered token. The kind the reclaimers are given as rewards for their mission. For a moment he marvels over it, contemplating selling it in the store, some adventurer would probably fork over good money for another shot at the Fantasy Gashapon, but then he decides against it. Returning it to his pocket, he drapes a scarf around his neck and swings the sign in the door from _Open_ to _Closed._

A path had been dug through the snow, but Garfield can still hear it crunch underfoot. He feels the hair on the back of his neck bristle under his scarf. Even with the cloak, it’s frigid out here. It’s almost enough to make him feel sorry for the agents outside, shovelling the still-falling snow, _almost._ He gives them a toothy grin as he passes, and they shakily grimace back, teeth chattering. He reminds himself to stock up on potions of cold-cure, or something. _Really_ give them a deal they can’t refuse.

As he moves his way towards the Fantasy Gashapon, he can’t help but notice how quiet it is. The fine hairs in his pricked ears bristle uncomfortably in the cold draught. And in the silence, he realises soon that he can hear a soft sound; a gentle, choking crying, the sound of hitching breaths and wracking sobs, someone hissing through their teeth and cursing. The icy silence renders him acutely aware of this and he finds his footsteps slowing to a halt outside of Leon’s door.

It has to be Leon; he wouldn’t let anyone in there alone. Garfield runs his tongue over his teeth, contemplating his next move. He’s never been one for this kind of situation. It’s too delicate. Deals are a competition, this needs more sensitivity. Never his strong suit. He turns the token over in his fingers.

_Think of this as a deal. Give him the token, and in return, he stops crying. Sounds fair?_

He moves to enter the room, before stopping, suddenly, at the thought, _Wait, what do I get from that deal?_

After a moment’s pause, he shakes his head and cackles gently, exhaling. How stupid, to get so worked up over this. It’s just a deal. Besides, giving Leon this lost token might sweeten the pot later – he’ll _owe_ him. The thought makes Garfield’s mouth water.

He knocks the door gently before entering. Leon looks up, surprised, and scrambles to his feet, hurriedly wiping at his eyes with the long sleeve of his robe. What was he doing on the ground?

‘Garfield, I-’ Leon pauses to clear his throat. His eyes are red from crying. Garfield’s mouth twitches. He’s not fooling anyone. ‘Mister Deals Warlock, I wasn’t expecting any more visitors today.’

‘Oh, never you mind, Artificer, I’m just popping by because I found _this!’_ It feels unnatural to ignore the pale streaks of tears on Leon’s face, but Garfield holds out the token. ‘It was in the pocket of this _delightful_ robe I found, and I was hoping we could strike up a quick _wager.’_

Pausing, Garfield feels the back of his throat itch, and he blurts out an addition:

‘If you’re feeling up to it, that is - have you been crying?’

He mentally slaps himself. _Not_ good negotiating. Leon’s eyes widen and he rubs at his face with the robe again, almost reflexively. Tear-tracks stain his skin, over the lines formed by years of stress, and with a shaky hand Leon brushes his silver hair back and shakes his head.

‘It’s just- it’s fine. I’ve just been a little stressed.’

Garfield hears his voice soften. ‘Those three, huh?’

Leon lurches as if he’s going to burst into tears again. ‘I don’t know why they do the things that they do. I don’t know why they _do_ this to me.’

‘Oh, come on, now,’ croons Garfield, inching closer to the gnome, who has propped himself up on the heavy desk, ‘I’ve seen their deals game. They’re just stupid, trust me.’

‘They’re not stupid!’ Leon chokes audibly. His face twists with agony. ‘They’re doing it on purpose! I don’t know what I did to deserve what they do!’

‘Have you tried… have you tried striking up a wit, or wager…?’

‘I tried. I tried bribing them with candy. And they _stole_ it. They just like my pain. I’ve _tried_ reasoning with them, they’re just- they’re _devils!_ They just like to _torture_ me! That _elf_ , especially, _oh,_ he just- he just makes my blood _boil!_ He thinks he’s so funny, but-! _’_

Leon’s fist clenches. For such a small man, an immense amount of rage roils within him, and Garfield finds himself stepping back for fear of it bubbling over. He relaxes slightly when he sees the tension in Leon’s shoulders slacken, but then he feels a pang somewhere inside him, a deep, incomprehensible pain, when he sees the gnome’s body tremble, and he realises that he’s crying again, bitter and humiliated. He steps forwards.

‘Now now, there’s- you shouldn’t- it’s-’ He struggles for words. They catch in his throat and spill from his mouth erratically. ‘They’re just- they’re- have you tried complaining to the Director about them?’

‘ _Yes,’_ breathes Leon, massaging his forehead and gritting his teeth, ‘But you _know_ how soft she can be when it comes to those three. All talk. God. I’m at the end of my goddamn tether, I swear, they’re trying to drive me insane…’

For a second, Garfield’s mouth opens and closes awkwardly. He has no idea what to say, and he doesn’t know why, but he wants to say _something,_ he feels like he has to. Leon rests his head in his hands and his back heaves, but he twitches visibly when he feels one hesitant hand gently pat his shoulders, rubbing in shaky circles.

‘There- uh- there, there, it’s alright.’ _That’s what people say, right?_ ‘They can have their laughs, but they’re nothing. You shouldn’t let them get to you.’

Leon lets out a long, rattling sigh, and Garfield winces, momentarily thinking that he’s going to start listing off the adventurers’ sins again, but instead, Leon just shakily says:

‘Thank you.’ He raises his head, sniffling and wiping at his face again. His fingers pull his hair into some semblance of tidiness. ‘I needed- I just really needed to feel like someone was on my side for once. I’m glad you understand.’

Awkwardly, Garfield grins, maybe showing too many teeth. The pang in his heart has turned into a faint, uneasy warmth, but that might just be the insulation of the cloak. ‘It’s always a pleasure to help!’

A long silence elapses between them. Leon pulls himself together, combing his fingers through his silver hair and beard. He looks completely frazzled. Poor guy deserves a vacation. He watches Leon adjust his glasses, straighten his cloak, and then an unfamiliar feeling twists in his gut – he almost steps back when it hits him, like the warm gust of air after opening an oven, but he quickly recognises it as _wanting._

Wanting. A desire for something he doesn’t have; something he might _never_ have. The thought catches him off guard and he finds the hair on the back of his neck prickling again. It feels wrong, so terribly wrong, but at the same time, the warmth in his chest spreads to his stomach and his faltering grin widens again when Leon bashfully smiles up at him.

‘I’m… awfully sorry you had to see that, Mr. Deals Warlock. I just… got a little overwhelmed.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing!’ Garfield waves him off, his own enthusiasm grating in his ears. ‘And please, call me Garfield, Mr. Deals Warlock was my father.’

He hears Leon chuckle softly and lets out a slightly-too-loud cackle, which he hurries to gulp down. Something so obscure and incomprehensible, something so bizarre and strange…

Suddenly remembering, he holds out the token again. ‘I almost forgot! I found this in the pocket of a cloak I found in the back of the Fantasy Costco, and I came here to bring it back!’

Leon visibly flinches when Garfield holds it out to him.

‘Please, just-’ He gulps. ‘Garfield, I’m sorry, but could you- just-?’

He gestures towards the Fantasy Gashapon machine. Garfield immediately understands – the catharsis of seeing someone do it _right._ Taking a few jaunty steps towards it, he slides the token into the slot, looking back at Leon for approval. Leon’s old, tear-stained face is already aglow with satisfaction. Hesitantly, Garfield reaches out, and turns the crank.

With a series of clunks, a cylindrical capsule drops down.

Leon’s eyes widen as Garfield pops it open. He turns it over in his hands. A long metal cylinder, hot to the touch – a flask. Pawing through the book on his desk, Leon skims the pages, brow furrowing in confusion.

‘Flasks… drafts… drinks… no, I don’t see anything in here, that’s… that’s very strange…’

‘It gives you what you _need,_ right?’ Garfield chimes. ‘I’m not an adventurer, I’m a deals warlock. Maybe this is something different.’

Leon tries to protest and say that all items in the machine _must_ be in the book, while Garfield removes the metal cap and fills it with a strong, aromatic tea. Steam pours off it in waves as the sweet, spicy scent fills the small, cold room. He sips tentatively, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Leon is now watching him, almost hungrily, as he drinks down the warming elixir.

‘Am I distracting you, Mr. Artificer?’ he coos, almost playfully, and he smirks as he sees Leon’s gaze suddenly dart back to the book.

‘No, it’s just- I’m- I was just-’

‘Oh, shush, it’s cold out. Here, have a drink, it’s good, I promise!’

He holds out the cup to Leon, hands wrapped around it. Hesitantly, Leon places his hands over Garfield’s. They’re cold, and rough from work, and Garfield marvels over them momentarily, before guiding the cup to Leon’s lips and allowing him to take a long drink of the warm, spicy tea.

‘That _is_ good.’

‘Mh _m!’_

Pulling back, Leon relaxes slightly, wiping his lips with an embroidered handkerchief. The sight almost catches Garfield off-guard and he has to consciously resist reaching out a furred thumb to wipe away a speck of tea from the other man’s face. As he drains the cup and screws it back onto the flask, he pauses, fiddling with the hem of his robe.

‘You know, Leon,’ he says, thoughtfully, in a voice that immediately puts Leon on edge because that voice means he’s smelled a deal, ‘Since you’ve _graciously_ given me this gift, I feel like I should uphold my end of the trade.’

‘What?’ Leon’s face twists in bewilderment. ‘No, the token was your payment. That flask is yours, fair and-’

Garfield cuts him off. ‘No, no, I insist! Here. Take this robe. The flask will keep me warm, and the robe will keep _you_ warm. Sounds like a fair deal, hm?’

Part of Leon looks like it wants to argue, but most of him is too tired. ‘…Fine. Just- pass it over, I’ll take a look at it.’

Stretching, Garfield lifts the thick purple robe up over his head, before smoothing down his regular robe beneath it. Leon takes it with tentative hands, then slips it on over his clothing, knocking his glasses askew but otherwise filling it perfectly. Garfield wonders for a second at the fact that it fits him so well, it’s almost uncanny, and he tucks away the flask with a fanged smile.

‘A perfect fit, isn’t that marvellous?’ he croons, standing up. As he does so, he sees something flicker in Leon’s eyes, and the gnome flinches, a movement that died before it could be enacted – as if Leon, for a split-second, was about to stop him. Part of Garfield wishes he had, but he can’t put his finger on why. ‘What a good trade! Pleasure doing business with you, Leon!’

‘It was- yes, thank you. Thank you for… for listening to me talk about those three, it really did help.’

‘No problem at all!’ Garfield waves a hand again in dismissal as Leon walks with him to the door. An uneasy silence develops as they walk, before he chimes in, ‘You know, we don’t see each other all that often, do we?’

‘… I suppose not.’

‘That’s just a shame, a real shame.’ Garfield hears himself sigh. A plume of pale breath falls from his mouth into the cold air. ‘We really should. What with our jobs being so _similar_ and all…’

He trails off. _What am I saying? We’re both busy. We don’t have time to be…_

Then he sees Leon smile up at him, exhausted but appreciative. ‘You know, I’d like that. I really would like that.’

And he sees it too – the wanting, deep and foreign, unknowable and incomprehensible, a warmth illuminating Leon’s eyes from behind that makes his deals-warlock heart skip for a second, and he recognises this immediately – two people, both wanting, so _deeply_ desiring something only the other can give to them, something he could never miss: the perfect opportunity to make a deal.

He takes and squeezes Leon’s hand gently. For a gnome, he has surprisingly bony hands, with slender typist’s fingers, tips calloused and rough from years of work. Momentarily, he completely forgets what he was about to do, just marvelling at these elegant hands, running his thumb over his knuckles, before snapping suddenly out of it and shaking his head.

‘I’ll – uh- I’ll be getting back to the Fantasy Costco now- I’ll-’ He clears his throat. It’s still snowing outside. Why does his face feel so warm? ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘I’ll- yes. I hope to- to see you soon.’

Both men laugh briefly, gently, a fleeting chuckle, before Garfield manages to pry himself away from Leon’s hand and gives a small wave as he begins to walk away. Leon waves back, almost reluctantly, and then, turning, Garfield the Deals Warlock disappears into the snow, a warm orange figure cutting through an endless expanse of freezing white.


End file.
